Quest for Perfection
by scarykisses
Summary: Lizzie decides to go on a small diet, which quickly becomes more than just that. She loses weight and she loses control, and falls victim to anorexia nervosa. CH. 5 ADDED!
1. How it All Began

Author's note: This is my first fic and I would love to hear what you all think of it! And please, be gentle.  
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING, NADA, NONE... got it?  
  
[] mean a character is thinking something.  
  
* means emphasis on a word(s).  
  
Quest for Perfection  
  
| Chapter One: How it All Began |  
  
Isn't it weird how things spin out of control all of the sudden? It's like you think you're in control of everything and you feel on top of the world or something. Then, in the blink of an eye, you've lost all control. That's when you're asking yourself where everything went wrong. I'm constantly asking myself that very question, but I never can figure out the answer. I used to have trouble solving mathematical equations... now I'm having trouble with something much more puzzling: Finding out where I took the wrong, life-changing turn in the road. Okay, so you're probably saying, "What is that McGuire girl talking about?". Well, in order for you to understand what I'm saying, I have to go back to the beginning when this all started in early January.  
  
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"Oh my gosh," my best friend Miranda Sanchez exclaimed with excitement, "This skirt is so you, Lizzie. I think you should get it! It's only fifteen dollars."  
  
I looked at the short, sparkly piece of clothing dangling from the hanger. It was totally cool, and I wanted it so bad. [It would go great with my baby blue tanktop] I thought to myself.  
  
"I'll go try it on," I said, grabbing it off the clothing rack.  
  
Miranda furrowed her eyebrows with confusion. "You're going to try it on? Lizzie, you *never* have to try anything on! *Everything* fits *you*."  
  
"Yeah, I know," I replied, "But it looks a little small. I just want to make sure it fits."  
  
Having said that, I dashed off to the dressing rooms and peeked under each door, looking for an empty one. Four dressing rooms later, I found one and went right into it, closing the door behind me. I was so anxious to try on that skirt. I stepped out of my shoes and my clothes and took the skirt, pausing for a second to admire the eye catching shimmer of the sparkles that it was covered in. Then, I shook my head to pull myself out of the daze and climbed into the skirt. Slowly, I pulled it up my legs... but once it hit my thighs, it wouldn't budge. I pulled and pulled and pulled, but the skirt wouldn't go up anymore. I slid it down my legs and kicked it off my feet. [IT DOESN'T FIT ME!] I thought, clenching my fists with anger. What was up with that? I mean, I had fit into practically every piece of clothing that had ever been made. Had I gained weight? No, that's not possible! I never, ever gain any weight. I turned towards the mirror and slowly examined my reflection; same  
old hair, same old eyes, same old nose, same old lips... and a disgusting body. I continued to scan myself, except I only focused on my body. About five minutes later, I suddenly came to a realization; I, Lizzie McGuire, was FAT!  
  
"Well...?" Miranda asked as I stormed out of the dressing rooms in a fury.  
  
"It doesn't fit!" I admitted, holding the skirt up and grinding my teeth.  
  
Miranda blinked in amazement, "No freaking way!"  
  
I nodded, hanging the skirt back up, "Yes freaking way!"  
  
"But Lizzie," she said, "You fit into *everything*!"  
  
I bit my lip, "Would you shut up?! Quit saying that because it's NOT true!"  
  
Miranda looked a little hurt by my sudden outburst. "Sorry," she mumbled with a frown.  
  
"No, no, no," I shook my head and waved my hands, "It's not your fault. It's my fault."  
  
"Your fault?" Miranda asked, a quizzical expression on her face.  
  
"Yeah," I nodded, "It's my fault that I'm fat."  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes, "Lizzie, you're not fat! That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. You're tinier than me!"  
  
I sighed, "Miranda, *you're* thin... *I'm* not. I need to lose five pounds. That's all."  
  
"No you don't! But hey, if you want to then go ahead."  
  
"I will," I declared, holding my head high. "From this moment on, I am officially on a diet!"  
  
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"Lizzie, time for dinner," mom yelled from downstairs.  
  
I was in my room doing my Math homework. I had been working on it nonstop for the past hour, and I thought I deserved a break. I ran downstairs and into the kitchen, where everyone was already seated for dinner.  
  
"Hey sweetie," mom said with a big smile, "I made spaghetti because I know how much you love it!"  
  
I sighed deeply. The aroma from mom's delicious spaghetti flowed up into my nostrils and made my mouth water. But I couldn't eat it. I had decided earlier that day when I was at the mall with Miranda that I was going to go on a diet, and I vowed to stick to it. I *had* to resist mom's scrumptious cooking, despite how badly I wanted to eat it. I *needed* to lose five pounds. I couldn't be weak and give in. I had to be strong and resist temptation.  
  
"No thanks mom," I said, "I'll just have a salad and some of that fat free yogurt you just bought a few days ago. I'm on a diet."  
  
Mom's eyes grew big, even bigger than, like, bigfoot or whatever.  
  
"Lizzie," she said calmly, "You don't need to go on a diet! You're fine just the way you are."  
  
"I agree," dad said with a nod.  
  
"You don't need to lose any weight," Matt said, "But you do need to have plastic surgery. Your face is so ugly!"  
  
"Matt!" dad scolded.  
  
Matt grinned mischeviously, "Sorry,".  
  
I ignored his ignorant comment and said, "Mom, I just want to lose a few pounds. I mean, a simple diet never hurt anyone!"  
  
Mom shook her head and pursed her lips, "Alright. Just be careful, okay? And be sensible about this diet."  
  
"Okay," I smiled, "Now can I have my salad and yogurt?"  
  
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"Ninety nine, one hundred!" I said, having finished all one hundred of my sit ups.  
  
I got up off the floor and threw myself on my bed. I had come up with what I thought was the perfect exercise plan; Ten minutes of jogging in place, and one hundred push ups and one hundred sit ups everynight before bed. I grinned with satisfaction. [This diet thing is really going to work], I thought. I had eaten a healthy meal that day, which was a nice little salad and a small container of fat free raspberry yogurt, and I had burned all the calories from that meal. I felt great.  
  
"McGuire, you *so*rock," I said to myself.  
  
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Chapter two coming soon! 


	2. Control

Author's note: BIG thanks to everyone who R+R! I'm glad you liked the first chapter.  
  
[] mean a character is thinking something.  
  
* means emphasis on a word(s).  
  
Quest for Perfection  
  
| Chapter Two: Control |  
  
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"Lizzie," I heard dad's deep voice say from nearby, "Come on, get up. Gotta go to school."  
  
I opened my eyes a slit and saw dad hovering over me.  
  
"Ugh," I groaned, "I don't wanna!"  
  
"Yeah, well you gotta," dad said, trying to mock me in a whiney voice.  
  
I sat up and growled, "Fine! I'm up."  
  
Dad smiled and planted a light kiss on my forehead, then left my room.  
  
I sighed deeply and rubbed my eyes. It was going to be a long day, I just *knew* it.  
  
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The cold water flowing in a rapid, vertical stream out of the faucet and numbed my fingertips was just enough to wake me up. I was standing in the bathroom, wincing. My eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the light. I grabbed my toothbrush, slapped some minty paste on the bristles and began brushing away; back and forth and in circular motions. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I brushed. [Have I lost any weight yet?] I asked myself in my head. The mirror certainly didn't tell me anything. Then again, I could only see my face and shoulders. I turned my gaze toward the scale next to the bathtub. I spit the paste into the sink, rinsed my mouth out and walked over to the scale. I took a deep breath and then hopped on.  
  
"Oh God," I said, squeezing my eyes shut, "I hope I lost weight!"  
  
I stood there for a few moments with my eyes sealed shut. Then, I decided to open them and see if I lost any weight.  
  
"Whoa," I said, looking down at the numbers on the scale, "One hundred and ten!"  
  
I squealed with delight; just a week earlier, I had weighed one hundred and fifteen. I had lost five pounds... and it only took several days! I stepped off the scale, holding my head high with pride. I felt so in control and those feelings of control also made me feel powerful. As I was strutting out of the bathroom, I thought about how I had decided to lose just five pounds when I first began the diet. Well, I had lost those five pounds, but I wanted to lose *more*. I thought, * If five pounds makes me feel this good, imagine what ten will do! * So, I decided to continue dieting.  
  
"I *will* be thin," I assured myself aloud.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Morning," I said, walking into the kitchen, where mom was cooking breakfast and dad was sitting at the table.  
  
"Hey Lizzie, good morning," mom greeted me with one of her warm smiles.  
  
"Yes, it is," I said with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. [And why is it a good morning, Lizzie? Because you lost weight, that's why!]  
  
"What took you so long to get ready?" mom asked, putting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of dad.  
  
"Well," I replied, "I was having trouble with my belt. I had to keep adjusting it to different holes to make it fit so that it would hold my jeans up. It's on the last hole right now, but my jeans are still falling down a little."  
  
Mom exchanged glances with dad and then they both looked at me at the same time.  
  
"Why are you two looking at me like that?" I said with a laugh.  
  
"Lizzie," mom said with a hint of worry in her voice, "I don't think you need to diet anymore. I can see that you've lost weight and I don't think it would be wise for you to lose anymore."  
  
I rolled my eyes, "Mom, I'm *fine*! Besides, I thought you respected my choice to go on a diet."  
  
Dad jumped in to aid mom's argument, "Your mother's right, Liz. You shouldn't lose anymore weight."  
  
I stomped my foot like a child throwing a tantrum. *Why* were they doing this to me? *Why* did they have to stick their noses into my life? All I want is to be thin, that's all. Why can't they just understand that? They want me to be happy, don't they? Well, in order to be happy, I have to be thin.  
  
"Whatever," I said, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair, "I'm going to school."  
  
With that, I stormed wordlessly out of the house, slamming the door behind me.  
  
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"Hey Lizzie," Gordo and Miranda waved from across the crowded school hallway.  
  
"Hi," I waved back, closing my locker and walking over to them.  
  
"You seem like you're in a bad mood," my other best friend, David Gordon said. Miranda and I call him Gordo... doesn't that sound iso/i much better than David?  
  
I sighed, "You're very observant, Gordo."  
  
Gordo shrugged sheepishly, "I know, I know."  
  
"So, what's wrong?" Miranda asked.  
  
"Parents," I said, shaking my head.  
  
"Right," Miranda nodded understandingly, "Don't they just bug the heck outta you?"  
  
"Mine sure do," Gordo said.  
  
"Mine too," I responded with a frown.  
  
"So Lizzie," Miranda began, "I guess the diet's going well. I see you've lost weight."  
  
I smiled, thrilled that she noticed my weight loss. "Yep, it's going great!"  
  
Gordo threw his head back then looked right at me, "Come on, Lizzie! You don't need to go on a diet. I don't understand why girls go on diets. Why do you guys obsess over stupid things, like looks and weight?"  
  
"They're *not* stupid," I replied defensively, "They're important to us! We *try* to look good, unlike boys."  
  
Gordo rolled his eyes, "Lizzie, when are you going to realize that looks aren't everything?"  
  
"You know what? Let's just drop the subject, okay?" Miranda said, playing peacemaker.  
  
"Fine," I said, throwing my hands in the air.  
  
Just then, the bell rang.  
  
"Come on," Miranda said, grabbing my wrist, "We don't wanna be late for Math!"  
  
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Chapter three coming soon! 


	3. Downward Spiral

Author's note: As long as the good reviews keep coming, so will the chapters! :-) Oh, and BTW, I forgot Lizzie's gym teacher's name so I just made one up.  
  
[] mean a character is thinking something.  
  
* means emphasis on a word(s).  
  
Quest for Perfection  
  
| Chapter Three: Downward Spiral |  
  
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It had already been three weeks since that ugly incident with my parents... you know, when they told me to stop dieting? It was absurd! I wasn't going to stop dieting for *anyone*, not even Ethan Craft. In a way, I was doing this entire losing weight thing for him. I figured that if I was pretty and thin, he'd ask me out. And I was already on my way to being thin! It was the beginning of February, four weeks after I started the diet, and I had lost *twenty* pounds. The thing is, though, some stuff had been happening to me. Lately, I'd been having these frequent dizzy spells and waves of nausea, and I blacked out twice. I had become rather weak; it seemed like *every* task, even little ones like taking out the trash, required more energy than I possessed. It was a struggle for me to even walk up my driveway. I was *always* cold and would wear layers of clothing, but that didn't help because I'd still be cold. I started having trouble sleeping and my clothes were baggy on me  
because *none* of them fit me anymore. I quit eating altogether. My daily meals consisted of eight glasses of water and five sticks of Extra sugarfree gum. That was it. I always managed to find excuses to get out of dinner. I would say that I had homework to do, or I had to go help Miranda study. Or I would say that I would rather eat dinner in my room, and when mom would bring my plate in, I'd scrape the food out of the window after she left. I don't think she suspected anything. Also, and I know this may sound crazy, but I started hearing this voice. It was a voice that controlled me. It was telling me lose weight... it was praising me for losing weight. And if I forgot to exercise or ate even the slightest bit more than my alloted calories, it would shout, "McGuire, you're a stupid, ugly, fat pig! Don't be so weak you failure!" Strangely enough, I depended on this voice. It was like it was my only true friend in the world. It kept me safe. It was the only thing in the  
world that I could trust.  
  
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"Hey Lizzie," Miranda said as I sat down next to her at the lunch table.  
  
"Hey," I said back, rubbing my temples.  
  
"Headache?" Gordo questioned.  
  
"Yeah," I said with a painful wince.  
  
Gordo shook his head, "It's a hunger headache."  
  
"What?!" I inquired.  
  
"You don't eat, Lizzie, so you get hunger headaches," he explained.  
  
I rolled my eyes, "Shut up, Gordo!"  
  
Instead of being hurt by my harsh words, Gordo continued. "See, a mood swing. That's from not eating, too."  
  
"I agree," Miranda added, taking Gordo's side. "Lizzie, you don't eat. I don't remember the last time you ate."  
  
"Don't you see what's happening to you?" Gordo pressed. "Lizzie, you look bad... *really* bad. You've lost so much weight and now, you're just this skinny little stick. You remind me of a twig that can be snapped in two if the wind blows hard enough."  
  
[Don't listen to them] the voice was telling me. [They're just trying to ruin everything. If you listen to them, you're going to be showing how weak you are you pathetic cow!]  
  
"THAT'S IT!" I shouted, pulling myself up with the little energy I had, "Just leave me alone," my voice was now low and whimpery. Then suddenly, everything began to sway; including me.  
  
"Lizzie!" Miranda exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing my shoulder to steady me.  
  
"I... I'm fine," I said, blinking and shaking my head.  
  
"Listen," Gordo explained, "We're your friends and we're worried about you, that's all. We know you have a problem and we're scared."  
  
"Really scared," Miranda said, looking at me with sympathetic eyes.  
  
"Yeah, well you don't need to be scared because I'm fine," I said, walking away slowly, silently praying that I wouldn't faint right then and there.  
  
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"Ok girls," the gym teacher, Ms. Sanford announced, clapping her hands to get our attention, "Today, we'll be playing kickball in the gym. Hurry up and get dressed!"  
  
This was the class that I dreaded most. Not because I hated most of the people in it, or because I hated sports. But because I had become too weak to do any physical activities. I was always terrified that I would pass out during hockey, or volleyball. And another bad thing; my uniform no longer fit me. My shirt was, like, six sizes too big for me and it just hung loosely off my body. And my shorts... oh God, my shorts. I had to put a safety pin in them twice, but that didn't help; they were just too big for me and I was always afraid that they were going to fall down during class. So, I always held the waistband up with my hands. The other girls would point and stare and whisper things to eachother about me. Once, I overheard the evil, supremely snobby Kate sanders telling the other girls in the locker room that I was an "anorexic freak". I didn't do anything about it, though, because I was just too exhausted to care.  
  
"Lizzie," Miranda said, pulling me out of my reverie.  
  
"Yeah?" I replied, shaking my head to get out of my trance.  
  
"Come on, we have to get to the gym."  
  
"Okay," I said, forcing a tiny smile.  
  
[Please don't pass out, please don't pass out!] I begged quietly, hiking up my loose gym shorts.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Good game, girls," Ms. Sanford said as we all entered the locker room.  
  
I walked slowly, like an old arthritic woman. I was so extremely tired out; that game of kickball drained all the little bit of energy that I had out of me. I wobbled over to my little corner and stood there for a few moments, trying to catch my breath. The lights in the room looked so bright; they hurt my eyes. Everyone around me was talking, but their voices sounded distant inaudible. Suddenly, the room began to shake and I got very dizzy. Then, all I saw was black...  
  
"Lizzie?" a familar voice beckoned from nearby.  
  
Slowly, I opened my eyes to see Ms. Sanford, Miranda and a few other girls hovering over me with worried looks on their faces. It took me a few minutes to realize that I was lying on the floor... because I *fainted*.  
  
"Out of my way," I said, attempting to get up.  
  
"Here," Miranda said, holding her hand out to help me.  
  
"No," I said, pushing it away, "I can do it myself."  
  
But the truth was, I *couldn't* do it myself, and I was embarrassed having to reach out for Miranda's hand.  
  
"Why don't you go to the nurse?" Ms. Sanford suggested as Miranda helped me off the cold ground.  
  
"No," I replied, "I'm okay."  
  
"I really think you should go to the nurse," Ms. Sanford said. It sounded more like an demand than a request.  
  
"Fine," I said, sighing deeply.  
  
Great, just great! The last thing I needed was the school nurse on my back.  
  
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"Hi, Mrs. Riles," I said, entering the nurse's office.  
  
"Lizzie McGuire," she stood up and walked over to me with a great big smile, "How may I help you today?"  
  
"Well," I replied, "I... I... I passed out in gym and Ms. Sanford told me to come here to see you."  
  
"Mmmhmmm," Mrs. Riles nodded, looking me up and down, which made me feel very uncomfortable. "Lizzie, would you step on the scale?"  
  
I was confused. "What?"  
  
"Step on the scale," she repeated, turning her gaze toward the piece of metal equiptment sitting next to her desk.  
  
I nodded and made my way over to the scale. I was *so* tired and still a little dizzy as I stepped on. I closed my eyes tightly and bit my bottom lip as Mrs. Riles weighed me.  
  
"Ninety two," she said.  
  
I opened my eyes and looked at the numbers on the scale: They read ninety two alright.  
  
"Lizzie," she said, her hands resting on her hips, "Ninety two is entirely too little for someone of your height. You're underweight, dear. And you've lost an immense amount of weight within the last month; my guess is about twenty two or twenty three pounds. It's not healthy at all lose that much weight within a month's time. Either you haven't been eating enough or you haven't been eating at all. Which one is it?"  
  
[DON'T TELL HER ANYTHING!] the voice shouted. [SHE'S ON TO YOU, MCGUIRE! LIE YOU STUPID FREAK. LIE TO HER! DON'T LET HER KNOW ANYTHING!]  
  
"I've just been exercising alot, that's all," I lied.  
  
Mrs. Riles looked at me with her piercing gaze. She shook her head and said, "Listen, you can't lose *anymore* weight. Understand me? In fact, you need to gain a few pounds."  
  
[DON'T LISTEN TO HER!] the voice hollered. [SHE'S JUST WANTS TO MAKE YOU TO BE AN UNHAPPY, FAT WHALE MCGUIRE!]  
  
I nodded. "Okay, can I go now?"  
  
"I guess," she said, shaking her head.  
  
I got off the scale and made my way out of her office. Once I was in the silent hallway, I sauntered over to my locker and kneeled down in front of it. [*Why am I so tired?] I wondered. I just wanted to go home and climb into bed and SLEEP. But I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to make it home; I had used all the energy I had play kickball in gym. I didn't have the energy to make it home.  
  
"What am I gonna do?" I asked myself, pulling a stick of gum out of my pocket. I then unwrapped it and popped it in my mouth.  
  
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"Mom?" I said into the receiver. I decided to call home and ask mom to come pick me up from school since I thought that I would drop dead if I had to walk home.  
  
"Yeah?" she replied.  
  
"Can you come pick me up from school?"  
  
"Why?" she asked, sounding a little worried.  
  
[What the hell am I supposed to tell her?] I asked myself in my head. [Should I tell her the truth? Might as well. I'm sure she knows it, anyway.]  
  
"Because," I admitted, "I don't think I have the strength to walk home."  
  
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I stood there outside the school, bundled up in my jacket. My teeth were chattering; God, I thought I was going to freeze to death.  
  
"Lizzie?" someone from behind said.  
  
I turned around to see Chloe Olsan standing there with a semi-worried expression on her face. I liked Chloe. She was new at school. Her father was an alcoholic and he abused Chloe and her mother for many years. Then, one night, he was driving under the influence and crashed his car into a tree. He was killed insantly, and Chloe and her mother decided to move away to escape the painful memories they had there.  
  
"Yeah?" I said, but it came out unevenly due to my shivering.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Fine," I lied, "Never been better."  
  
"Are you cold or something?" she prodded.  
  
"Yes, very."  
  
"But it's so nice out today! Look," she pointed up to the bright yellow circle shining it's rays down upon the Earth, "The sun is out."  
  
I shrugged and turned to see mom's car coming up the road.  
  
"That's my mom," I said, "Gotta go. See you tomorrow, Chloe."  
  
"Later," Chloe smiled and walked away.  
  
Mom pulled up to the curb and, slowly, I got in the car.  
  
"Hey sweetie," she said, her eyes full of concern... concern for me.  
  
"Hi," I said dryly.  
  
She began to drive away and during that entire car ride, I could see her throwing an occasional glance my way out of the corner of my eye. I wanted so badly to assure her that I was okay, but that was a lie. I was starting to realize that something was wrong with me... but I was still confused.  
  
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"Want something to eat?" mom asked as we walked into the house.  
  
[Me? Eat? HAHA! You're joking, right?]  
  
"No," I turned down her offer, "I'm so tired. I just want to go to bed."  
  
"Okay," she said unsurely, "You just go up to bed."  
  
She headed into the kitchen. I looked at the stairs in front of me and sighed. [How am I going to make it up them?] I asked myself in my mind. I walked towards them and slowly began walking up them, clutching the banister very, very tightly. It seemed like it would take an eternity for me to reach the top.  
  
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I spent the rest of the night asleep in my bed, practically unconscious. I just wanted to sleep the rest of my life away. It was like I was on a downward spiral. I no longer cared about boys or clothes or dances or anything like that. I didn't care about *anything* anymore. My life has become so small. It was like I was just this lifeless ghost floating around, waiting to be sucked away.  
  
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Chapter four coming soon! 


	4. Deterioration

Author's note: Forgive me, for I got lazy on you guys. You all have my deepest apologies! Thank you so much for all the kind reviews. Here's the next chapter you wanted!  
  
[] mean a character is thinking something.  
  
* means emphasis on a word(s).  
  
Quest for Perfection  
  
| Chapter Four: Deterioration |  
  
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"Move it, Lizzie," I heard a familar voice shout from behind me.  
  
I turned my head to see Ethan Craft standing there. I used to be in love with that boy. I used to think that the entire world revolved around him and *only* him. It wasn't like that anymore, though. Now my world revolved around dieting, and losing weight, and desperately hoping that I wouldn't drop dead on my way to the bus stop one morning.  
  
"Sorry," I apologized and shifted toward the left, "You can just walk ahead of me."  
  
"Thanks," he mumbled before taking up my offer.  
  
I was on my way to Science class, and each day, it took me longer to get there. I had it right after English, and the Science room and the English room are on opposites sides of the building. I was *always* late for Science because walking to that class was such an extremely difficult effort. I never thought that I would make it.  
  
"Sorry I'm late again, Mr. Connelly," I said, trying to catch my breath as I walked into the room and dropped my books on my desk.  
  
He smiled. "It's okay, Miss McGuire."  
  
He started teaching, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I was falling asleep. I couldn't help it. Just as  
  
I nodded off, I heard something about the visible spectrum and then my name. Quickly, I opened my eyes and looked at Mr. Connelly. Apparently, he was waiting for me to answer a question. The problem was, I didn't even know what he asked.  
  
"Could you repeat the question?" I asked, clenching my fists nervously.  
  
"That's what I thought," he said, shaking his head. "I'd like to see you after class, Miss McGuire."  
  
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"You wanted to see me?" I said politely, standing in front of Mr. Connelly's desk while all the other students exited the room.  
  
"Ah, yes," he nodded, "Listen, I do not allow sleeping in my class. I'll let it slide this time but if it happens again, I'll have to give you detention. Is that clear?"  
  
I replied with a nod and he began to speak again, his tone sounded like one of concern.  
  
"If you don't mind my saying so, you look ill. Maybe you should go see Mrs. Riles?"  
  
"No," I responded, "I don't need to, I'm fine."  
  
He continued. "I noticed that you've lost a drastic amount of weight, and your behavior has changed. You just sit there now, looking utterly dazed. You no longer volunteer to answer questions during class. Your grades have dropped. It's obvious to me that you have a problem."  
A part of me was screaming that he was right, and that I should take advantage of this oppurtunity and confide in him about everything that had been going on. However, that part was out of reach. It was there, just not able to speak louder than my illness. Ultimately, I decided to brush him off.  
  
"Don't worry about me," I said with a shrug, "I'll be alright. Thanks for your concern. See you tomorrow."  
  
And with that, I walked away.  
  
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The rest of that week was a blur. It seemed like I did everything mechanically. I got up, went to school, came home, slept, and that was what my days consisted of. I just went through the motions, not even aware of what was occuring in the enviroment surrounding me. I would sit in school, totally dazed, while everyone around me discussed things that I didn't even pay attention to. Basically, I was just... there. Dead.  
  
Friday evening, I was lying in bed wrapped up in blankets when Mom came in.  
  
"Hey honey," she said, sitting down next to me on the bed.  
  
"Hi," I said, forcing my eyes open.  
  
"Lizzie," she said, looking really worried, "Have you been losing your hair?"  
  
I blinked. Yes, I had been losing my hair. It was *always* falling out. At first, it just came out in a few strands but lately, it had been coming out in large clumps. Also, my fingernails were cracked and they often turned blue. Off of that subject, though, because Mom didn't ask about that.  
  
"Yeah," I replied, "How did you know?"  
  
"Well, it's kind of noticable. Your hair isn't full anymore. It's gotten thin. I find it lying all over the floor and in your hairbrush."  
  
"Oh," was all I said.  
  
"Lizzie," she said, nicely but firmly, "I... well, your father and I know that you're... not well. It took us both a while to accept it. We can see it happening to you, yet we haven't done anything about it because we just don't want to believe it. He and I talked about it last night, though, and we've decided that you're sick and we're going to get you help."  
  
I didn't even bother to argue because why argue the truth? Mom was right. I *was* sick and I needed help.  
  
"Alright," I said.  
  
"Okay, then. I've made an appointment for a checkup with Doctor Kendell tomorrow. And, also, I made an appointment with Doctor Shaw."  
  
My eyebrows bunched in confusion at the unfamilar name. "Doctor Shaw?"  
  
Mom nodded. "She's a brilliant psychiatrist."  
  
Oh great, a shrink.  
  
"Fine," I said.  
  
"Well, you'll have to be up bright and early tomorrow morning at ten, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
Mom smiled and looked at me endearlingly. I could see the pain in her eyes. I knew I was hurting her, and that made me feel like shit. She gave me a kiss on my cheek and got up to leave, but before she walked out, she turned around.  
  
"I love you, Lizzie. You mean so much to me. You're my little girl, and you always will be. I'm so thankful that I have you. You are a true blessing, and I will *always* love you no matter what happens. I just want you to know that."  
  
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I was walking through a dark alley when suddenly, all these fatty, sugary treats began falling from the sky. Cakes, candy... you name it. I was so disgusted, and so tempted simultaneously. Then the devil himself appeared and was shoving a twinkie in my face. He kept telling me to eat it. His voice sounded like one I'd heard before and after thinking about it for a few moments, I realized that he sounded like the voice inside my head. The voice of my disease. The devil was the voice of my disease in disguise. I turned around and tried to run away, but I couldn't. I was just too weak. I fell to the ground and when I looked up, I saw the devil... the voice... my disease... or whatever you want to call it... hovering over me with a knife. I tried to scream, but it came out as a whisper. Just as the knife was a mere inch away from my fragile, starving body, I woke up in a cold sweat.  
  
"A dream," I said, breathing heavily, "It was only a dream."  
  
I began to shiver and wrapped the blanket even tighter around myself. I began wondering if I was thin yet. I knew I had lost weight, but I just didn't *feel* thin. Everytime I looked in the mirror, I saw this fat, overweight girl. But the thing is, I *wasn't* fat. It took me a while to realize that my mind was totally screwed up and it was causing me to see things wrong.  
Slowly, I pulled myself out of my bed and walked over to the mirror. I let the blanket fall from my shoulders and onto the floor. Then I examined my reflection in the mirror. My hair had lost it's wave and just sort of wilted... well, what was left it, anyway. My skin was pale white, virtually transparent. My eyes looked dull and faded, and were slightly sunken in. There were large dark circles under them, and I could even see my eye sockets. My face was gaunt and my cheekbones were popping out of my skin. My collarbone stuck out farther and my ribs were visible. My hips stuck out sharply and my legs were so tiny. I turned around and looked at my back. My spinal column was visible as well. I couldn't believe it. I looked so sick. I began to shiver again and wrapped my blanket around myself.  
  
"Tomorrow," I said, climbing back into bed. "Things will change tomorrow when I go see the doctors."  
  
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Chapter five coming soon! 


	5. The Diagnosis

Author's Note: Here's what you've all been waiting for so badly...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[] mean a character is thinking something.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
* means emphasis on a word(s).  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Quest for Perfection  
  
  
  
  
  
  
| Chapter Five: The Diagnosis |  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Swirl, swirl, twist, twist. Chipped paint here, chipped paint there. I think the painter missed a few spots. There was a white ceiling with patterns on it that danced together in a somewhat mesmerizing motion. Then, there was tannish blotches here and there, which the stupid painter neglected.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[That paint job sucks.] I thought to myself.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There I was, sitting in the waiting room of Doctor Kendell's office on a Saturday morning, about to discover how badly I messed my body up... and what was I doing? Scrutinizing the painted ceiling. What else was I supposed to do? I guess in certain situations, when a person is nervous about something, they manage to find entertainment quality in even the slightest things. In my case, it was the ceiling. Mom didn't seem to be doing anything to keep herself entertained, though. I glanced over at her a few times to see her biting her lips, biting her knuckles, and just looking more terrified than a deer caught in headlights. I think she was more scared than me. Can you believe that? Well, I'll tell you, I was extremely frightened at that point. I wondered what was in store for me; what the future held. Did I even have a future? I didn't think so. I thought I was going to be intangled in this dangerous web of confusion and pain for the rest of my days... and I didn't think I had many of those left. It was sort of like I was a criminal on death row who was about to be given a lethal injection.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Elizabeth McGuire?" Doctor Kendell said, stepping out of his office.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Right here," Mom answered, pointing at me.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He poked. He thumped. He touched me with cold metal objects. I was sitting on that bed type thing in my underwear, practically freezing to death as he examined me.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Okay," he said, writing something down on his little clipboard, "Could you step on the scale for me?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"O... ka... y," I shivered, slowly getting off the bed and making my way over to the scale.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Go ahead, step on," he instructed, and I did as I was told.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Alright," he said, moving the metal things back and forth to different digits. Finally, he stopped. And I had my breath, preparing myself to hear the one thing that had held the most significance in my life for the past month; My weight.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Eighty two," he said, writing it down.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[Whoa! Eighty two? No way! That's not possible.]  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Are you sure?" I asked, still shivering uncontrollably.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. This scale is right - it doesn't lie."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I pursed my lips and wrapped my arms around myself even tighter, desperately trying to warm up. But it was to no avail.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"You can get dressed, Elizabeth. Then I want you to come into my office, okay?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Okay," I replied.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He flashed me a sympathetic smile and walked out of the exam room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't get it," I said to myself quietly as I stepped back into my clothes. "Eighty two is thin, but I don't *feel* thin. What's wrong with me?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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"Elizabeth, are you aware of your drastic weight loss?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I was sitting in Doctor Kendell's office in a chair across from his desk. He was staring right at me, and I wanted Mom to be in there with me so badly. But she wasn't allowed because, as Doctor Kendell said, it's his and I's time to talk.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Well," I responded, "I guess."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"You guess?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't know. I mean, I know I've lost a lot of weight but I just don't *feel* it. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes," he said, leaning back in his chair and nodding like a professional, "I understand. How do you feel physically?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Exhausted," I shot right out, "*Very* exhausted. And weak, really weak. Lightheaded, nauseous."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Okay," he said, "How about mentally?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I shook my head and searched my messed up mind for the proper word to describe how I felt in my screwed up head. I found it after a few moments.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Numb."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Numb?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes, numb."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"How so?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't know, it's weird. I can't think about anything else but losing weight, you know? Like, I'll be taking a test in school but I won't be focusing on it. Instead, I'll be focusing on my weight. It's strange."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I see," he said, still nodding. Then he leaned in looked at me sharply. "Do you want to lose anymore weight?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"No," I explained, "I don't *want* to. But I don't want to gain anymore weight, either."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Okay," he said, standing up. "I'm going to call your mother in here so she and I can talk. You can stay and listen, if you'd like."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I just nodded. I was too tired to care about anything that was happening.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hello, Mrs. McGuire," Doctor Kendell said as Mom entered his office. "Have a seat."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As Mom sat down next to me, she looked at me with very worried eyes and I felt so guilty for putting her through all this.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mrs. McGuire," Doctor Kendell said, "I'm afraid Elizabeth has an eating disorder called Anorexia Nervosa. Do you know what that is?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mom clapped her hand over her mouth. It looked like someone had just slapped her. I, too, was shocked by this revelation. I knew what anorexia was, but I never even considered the fact that I could possibly have it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I take it you know," Doctor Kendell said.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes," Mom said, shaking her head in disbelief.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Elizabeth's very ill. This may have started out as a simple diet, but it is no longer just that. She has been starving her body for quite sometime. This is a life threatening illness. Elizabeth is underweight, which leaves her at risk for heart failure."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"You mean a heart attack?" Mom asked.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes," he replied.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[A heart attack? No freaking way! I'm too young.]  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"But she's only thirteen!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"That doesn't matter," he explained, "She's underweight and that can cause a heart attack. And that's not the only medical problem she's got. Her self-induced starvation has done other damage to her body and in order to see what type of damage it is, we've got to run tests."  
  
  
  
  
  
[Oh great, McGuire! That's just great. You've screwed your body up. You stupid loser, can't you do anything right?!]  
  
  
  
  
  
Mom looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Oh God, I can't believe this. I should have realized that something was wrong!"  
  
  
  
  
"Mrs. McGuire," Doctor Kendell gently said, "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."  
  
  
  
  
  
Mom closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. Then she opened them and began to speak again. "So what do we do now?  
  
  
  
  
  
"There is a special unit at Mercy Hospital for people with eating disorders. Elizabeth needs to go there for treatment."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"How long will she be there?" Mom asked.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"That depends," he told her, "It'll take a while. A few months, probably. It's up to Elizabeth to get better. Everything is up to her."  
  
  
  
  
  
"I'll go," I said.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Chapter six coming soon! 


End file.
